AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I roll my eyes and type back my response.
Me:
Of course not, and you shouldn’t leave either
It’s not safe out there.
Jeremy:
Babe, you know I’m too healthy to get sick.
My teeth sink into my lower lip. I want to tell him that his health has nothing to do with it. Mr Harcourt was a marathon runner and ate strictly health food. He stopped me more than once to spout some nonsense about how the red vines I was eating were terrible for me.
But if I say as much to Jeremy, he’ll laugh at me for being a worrywart. I am, but it doesn’t feel good to have him make fun of me for it.
Besides, I highly doubt that the crystals his sister gave him and vitamin d and zinc supplements he’s been taking would protect him against a virus that attacks the brain.
Jeremy:
I miss you, babe.
Any warning I was going to send him shrivels up, and a glow starts in my chest, making me feel warm too.
“Sab,” my mother’s voice cuts in. “If you’re going to text with your boyfriend, do it in your room, please. You are disrupting my chi.”
I roll my eyes again and stand up from the couch to move to my tiny room down the hall from my parents. Our apartment is small, but comfy for the three of us. We’ve lived here my whole life and I can’t imagine living anywhere else, at least not until I move out for college. Which is far closer than I like to think about.
Or it was until they shut down the schools within the Quarantine zone. I’m trying to keep up with my course work, and I video chat with my classes every day, but it took them a long time to figure out this wasn’t temporary. That it would be months of being locked away from each other.
Technically, I’m supposed to be heading to Palm de Rosa University in September. But that only counts if I actually graduate.
I flop down on my bed and type out a response to Jeremy about how I miss him, too. How I can’t wait for all this shit to be over so I can kiss him senseless.
I wait for a reply. And I wait. And wait.
My fingers play with the bracelets on my wrists. A series of smooth crystal beads. Ocean jasper. Tiger’s eye. Black tourmaline. Hematite on my left wrist. Rose Quartz, peach moonstone, citrine, Carnelian and pink opal on my right.
My grandma gave them to me and she’d told me what all of them mean, what they’re supposed to help with, but I was only half listening. I love her to death, but I do not believe in the power of crystals.
Still, I promised her I would keep them on, so I do.
I sigh and sit up… glancing at my phone again. Why hasn’t Jeremy texted back? It’s been happening more and more recently. When we’d first started dating, he’d been almost clingy, needing to be around me all the time, but since we’ve been in quarantine, he’s less and less communicative. I can’t say I really blame him. We are in unprecedented times. But still…
My stomach pinches in nerves because the reason he’s not responding may be that he’s in the process of, you know, killing himself. I send another text.
Can you send me just an emoji back or something?
So I know you’re okay?
His response is a rolling eye emoji.
I let out a breath and toss my phone on the bed, before wandering around my room, touching knick knacks and photographs and books. I have a lot of plants in my room, a lot of my mom’s style has spilled over. Boho chic is what my best friend Callie calls it. All whites and greens and natural wood with just a few hints of terracotta. I drew the line at the crystals my mom wanted to put on every available surface. The faint whiff of sage reaches my nose and I know my mom has recently been in here to cleanse by burning a bundle of the dried herb.
I pause in front of my mirror, eyeing myself, pulling my straight black hair back into a ponytail and then fluffing my straight across bangs. They were an impulse cut about a month into quarantine. I’d hated them at first, but now I love them.
My dad is Korean. My mom is… Well, she’ll tell you she’s French, but her great grandparents moved to America, so I just call her American, not French. I’m the perfect blend of both my parents. Sleek black hair from my dad. Greyish-greenish eyes from my mom. Both of my parents have full lips, and they argue about who’s I’ve inherited. The heart-shaped face I got from my dad, the small nose and the freckles over it I got from my mom.
No one has any idea where I got my curves from. Boobs and hips and thighs and a small belly that I love. I like being soft. I, in no way, want to be all angles and muscles like my mom. All ridges and veins like my dad.
